


Let the Axe Do the Work

by rebelxxwaltz



Category: Longmire (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Post-Season/Series 03
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-17
Updated: 2015-01-17
Packaged: 2018-03-07 22:57:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,849
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3186386
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rebelxxwaltz/pseuds/rebelxxwaltz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Walt gives Vic some wood-chopping lessons. ;D</p>
            </blockquote>





	Let the Axe Do the Work

**Author's Note:**

> This fluffy little short was speedily written the other morning as a birthday gift for a certain #walnut. You know who you are. Happy Birthday! ;D

Vic hefted the axe awkwardly, frowning. It was heavier than it looked, and lifting it made her feel weak— which was something she absolutely hated. Wondering if this was sort of a sick metaphor for her entire life, she glared surreptitiously over at Walt. He was wielding his own axe like it was a toothpick, casually holding the handle in one large hand as he placed a chunk of wood on the tree stump he was using as a chopping block.

He seemed to sense her watching him, pausing in his work. "You don't have to do this, you know."

Releasing a sigh and adjusting the hem of her Flyers t-shirt, Vic tried to relax a bit. "Yeah I do. If I'm gonna keep living in this godforsaken rectangle of a state I should learn how to do some rustic shit. Besides, I promised I would help you."

"True. But I don't actually  _need_ help. Been doing this by myself for a long time."

There was something unsaid in that statement, and Vic wasn't sure exactly what it was. Maybe this was some sort of therapy for him and she was intruding? Was there something about the activity that made him think of Martha? No, that didn't seem right. Perhaps it was just one of Walt's solitary talk-even-less-than-usual activities and he didn't like having anyone around? If so, then why the hell had he invited her out here?

They'd been doing this dance lately. At least Vic thought that was what it was. And, Billy Idol aside, wouldn't she look stupid if it turned out she'd been dancing all by herself? It was this dance where one of them would invite the other along to some type of innocuous non-work activity, like when she asked Walt for help finding houseplants for her new place or he insisted that she join him and Cady for lunch at the Busy Bee even though it was her day off. She'd started thinking of these events as non-date dates, and she was beginning to wonder whether or not this might be one of them.

In response to his statement she shrugged, struggling to raise the head of the axe and resting the handle against her shoulder. "If you can be brave enough to hand a weapon like this to a recent divorcée, I'm sure I can manage to chop a few logs."

That earned her a chuckle. "Didn't think I was putting myself in exceptional danger, seeing as you carry a gun all the time anyway."

"Yeah, but firearms are so impersonal. Axes and knives are where it's at when it comes to crimes of passion."

Walt shifted his weight from one foot to the other, and Vic tried not to watch too intently as the muscles moved beneath the fabric of that blue t-shirt. He gave her an unreadable look, somewhere between amusement and… something else. "Suppose I should be flattered if you're thinking about committing crimes of passion against me."

_Against you? No._ _ **With** _ _you? Hell fucking yes._

Schooling her features into an innocuous smile/eye-roll combo, Vic hoped he wouldn't notice her lack of an actual response.  _Okay. Logs. Pay attention to logs._

She watched what Walt was doing, which was probably more distracting than helpful. It was almost like she could see the power flowing through his frame with those practiced motions, the axe a natural extension of his body as he brought it down and split the short log into two even halves with targeted force. He made it look easy. Maybe it  _was_  easy? Vic was no fainting flower like Lizzie Ambrose. She could  _do_  this.

Copying Walt's movements, she positioned her own log on the spot he had shown her. She struggled with the axe, wobbling slightly as she tried to hold it above her head and draw it back the way Walt had done.

"Whoa there," he held one hand out, causing her to pause. If the look on his face was any indication, her wood-chopping form left something to be desired. "You won't hit the wider side of a school bus holdin' it like that."

Setting his own axe carefully aside, he walked over to her. Vic tried not to flinch at his sudden proximity or observe how his eyes looked extra blue in the sunlight. Also on her list of things not to notice were his muscular forearms, his slightly tousled hat-free hair, and the way she could actually feel the heat rolling off him as he came  _even closer._

"Here."

He took the axe and stepped behind her, reaching around and holding it in front of them. Vic wasn't sure what he wanted her to do, so she did nothing. A few moments passed and her inaction was rewarded by the sensation of Walt's hand carefully grasping hers, cradling it, with his warm palm pressing against her skin and his fingers wrapping around her own. He placed her hand way further toward the bottom of the axe handle than she'd been holding it, and his hand lingered for longer than expected.

"Should've bought you some gloves, you'll get blisters like this."

She resisted the urge to lean back against him, slightly dizzy from the thoughtful rumble of his voice so close to her ear.

"You aren't wearing any," she countered.

Walt reached for her other hand, placing it near where he'd put the first. It did not escape Vic's notice that both of his arms were now circled around her as they held the axe together with a surprising lack of awkwardness. She inhaled sharply as he brushed a thumb over the top of her knuckles before removing one of his hands.

"Don't usually need 'em. My skin's not as delicate as yours."

He'd said it like it was a simple statement of fact, but that small touch communicated something else and had Vic's mind reeling around the words. The air between them had become charged, and she was actually glad he was behind her for the moment because she was sure if they were face to face her expression would betray absolutely everything that she felt for him. She needed to diffuse the situation before she did something irrational, like tackle him into the woodpile and kiss him senseless. Assuming she managed not to knock them both unconscious in the process…

"Okay, so what do I do?"

That seemed to do the trick, as Walt slipped into teacher mode and instructed her using woodsy catchphrases like 'let the axe do the work' and 'aim for the smallest spot you can see.' There was quite a bit more touching involved, and that was something she would complain about when hell froze over. It might not be the right time to address their obvious attraction or her emotions regarding Walt, but having him near her like this was a good feeling. They'd both had little enough of feeling good lately, so Vic figured she was entitled to enjoy it.

After a few assisted attempts, some more successful than others, Vic felt ready to try chopping a log without Walt's help. He stood to the side and watched her attentively, hands placed casually on his hips in a familiar pose. She remembered everything he'd said, hefting the axe upward and letting the weight of the blade carry itself down. She fixed her eyes on a small imperfection in the wood, the same way she would focus on a target at the gun range. To her great surprise, the axe came down exactly where she wanted it to and made a satisfying 'thunk' as it split the log in two.

Vic was unreasonably excited by her achievement, punching the air and smiling like an idiot. She stopped in her tracks, smile fading just slightly as she looked over at Walt and noticed the unguarded expression on his face. Tenderness, pride, and maybe even longing were present behind the barely-there grin he was sporting. Their gazes were locked, a haphazard stack of wood and a chasm of unanswered questions between them.

Unable to sustain the charged eye contact for much longer, Vic worked up the courage to call him out on it. "Walt? What is it?"

He shook his head slightly, like he was snapping out of a trance. "I, uhh… sorry. It's just nice to see you smiling."

The reply was slightly disappointing, and Vic knew that both of them were aware that this was more than that. Still, she wasn't going to push him. "Well, it's pretty nice to smile."

She moved to put another log on the chopping block, surprised when she saw his boots enter her line of vision and felt his fingers wrapping gently around her wrist to still her motions. What, had she managed to pick up a log the wrong way now? She was perfectly willing to let him show her how to do it right.  _Get your mind out of the gutter, Moretti._

"Listen, Vic—"

"Yeah?"

They both stood upright, facing one another. Walt rubbed the back of his neck nervously. "I was wondering if you might wanna… have dinner with me sometime."

Vic tilted her head, slightly confused. "Walt, we eat dinner together every other day. Lunch most days. Sometimes breakfast, too." She hadn't meant for the part about breakfast to come out sounding suggestive, but from the tinge of red coloring his cheeks it obviously had.

"I… yeah, I know that. I meant do you want to go out to dinner." He rocked back onto his heels and then forward again, maintaining eye contact. "Together. Not while we're at work."

She raised an eyebrow, trying to play it cool as her heart hammered in her chest. "Are you asking me out on a date?"

"Yep."

"A  _real_  one?"

His eyebrows scrunched, which was damn adorable. "What do you mean?"

Now probably wasn't the time to tell him that she secretly counted it as a date every time they saw each other outside of work. "Never mind."

Was it her imagination, or had they drifted closer to one another? Surely it was just wishful thinking. Vic knew she was staring at him, but it seemed slightly more permissible since he had just asked her out. Absently wondering what his stubbled cheek would feel like if she stroked it with her fingers, she failed to realize that she hadn't answered him yet.

Fidgeting slightly— if Walt Longmire was even physically capable of such an action— he made a back and forth gesture with his hand. "Umm. So?"

"Oh! Yeah—" Vic cleared her throat, composing herself after more or less getting caught ogling Walt right to his face. "Yes, I would like that."

He released the breath he had apparently been holding, and flashed a small smile that melted her insides. "Right. Good."

Nodding, she bit her lip and smiled back. They probably looked like a pair of dummies, standing there smiling at each other and blatantly ignoring the task of chopping firewood, but Vic didn't give a shit- she had a hot date to look forward to.

**xxxxx**

**Author's Note:**

> That's that. Just a bit of fluff for the birthday girl. Love it? Hate it? Disappointed that I didn't manage to work in any jokes about Walt's 'wood' (like you weren't thinking it)? Let me know in a comment!
> 
> I have a couple multi-chapter Longmire fics, one completed and one nearly so, that I haven't had time to import to AO3 yet. I'll try to post them soon! :D


End file.
